Memories
by The-Stupidest-Author-Ever
Summary: If only he knew. If only he listened. If only he had been fair. There would not have been a traitor. There would not have been the Assassin Hunter. Achilles remembers the days of his Brotherhood, wondering what he had possibly done wrong, even though there is nothing more than painful memories.
1. Chapter 1

**A collection of one-shots based on Shay's transformation from Achilles's point-of-view. I was originally planning to put this in an upcoming fanfiction, _Fallen Eagle_ , but decided it could stand alone and to make it sorta like a prequel. I really couldn't get these ideas out of my head and refused to let them go to waste. This will mostly be based on Rogue's timeline plus a few extra. Rogue scenes will changed slightly so keep it fresh and so it can tie into my other fanfictions. Nothing major, I promise. If you enjoy this, I recommend checking my profile.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed or Ubisoft**

 **Warnings: swearing, mild violence, situations of angst, suicidal thoughts**

* * *

Achilles pitied the boy in front of him. His dark hair and eyes were dull, looking lifeless. His eyes looked even darker with the shadowed bags underneath them. The boy himself was gaunt-thin, barely any muscle to protect his fragile bones. Achilles could see a couple if he peered carefully enough. Result of neglect of a proper diet.

This was the recruit Liam promised him? It looked like Achilles could defeat him with a finger, as weak-looking as he was. And the somber aura of depression surrounding the young man told he may not even want change. That was only half the problem. What was he? Eighteen? However… Liam was Achilles's best student, who always spoke soundly and honestly. If the man said this boy owned great potential, then Achilles would take his word.

"So, I understand it you do not have a family," Achilles started. He knew the blunt statement sounded cruel, but if he was going to recruit this boy into his Order, then he needed to know everything.

As he expected, the recruit mildly flinched at the comment. However after a moment's hesitation, the boy said slowly, voice as hollow as his body, "Y-yes, sir. My… my mother died in childbirth. My father was a merchant, so he was out at sea quite often. I was raised by my aunt, but she died of sickness. I went to sail with my father, but his ship was struck by a storm almost a year ago."

So one tragedy after another. Explained a little for the boy's depression. But he would need to learn life is full of tragedies if he was to serve properly. Achilles continued on.

"Liam tells me you're a fighter."

The boy nodded. "My father taught me swordplay and how to shoot during our travels. I even took a few lessons when I was a lad from my neighbor." Suddenly he finally gave a small grin, which looked almost sheepish. "And I've had quite a number of brawls myself."

Achilles cocked an eyebrow. "With whom?"

"Mostly some thugs on the street. With an authority, every once in a while."

A troublemaker. Great. The Order had enough fights and enough trouble avoiding the authorities. He didn't have room for a rabble-rouser. However, Achilles underestimated the boy as he was analyzing the old man himself. The recruit played off his expression that he said something wrong and quickly tried to correct his mistake.

"It's not what you think," he quickly spoke up. "My family was poor and my aunt was already sickly. We lived in a rough part of town. I was just defending myself."

His tone sounded sincere, and Achilles felt somewhat relieved to hear he came from humble beginnings. If the boy was rich and stirred trouble, then he was certainly a lost cause. Considering that was not the case… And besides, the boy was not the first and would certainly not be the last recruit to be picked off the streets. Once again Achilles went on.

"You said your father was a merchant. So you have sailed?"

Another nod. "Yes, sir. Quite all over the world, in fact. I even spent most of my days when I was younger helping sailors at the docks. The pay was sometimes good."

"Where did you sail?"

The recruit narrowed his eyes in thought for a moment and counted his fingers to keep track. "I've been to many islands in the Caribbean. Port-au-Prince and Havana, mostly. Erm, there's Portugal, France, Spain… Africa a couple times…"

Finally Achilles chuckled. "So you're quite the traveler…" he chuckled, amused as the boy continued to think.

The recruit snapped out of it to nod humbly again. Meanwhile, Achilles mentally smirked. Better. The Order needed someone with adequate knowledge of the world. And he _did_ look like a sailor. Aside his gauntness, Achilles could see the well-toned muscles created from years of labor. His hands were well-calloused as well. Another question.

"As many places have you visited, can you speak any other languages?"

Now the recruit frowned. "Um, not much, honestly. I know a few phrases of Irish from my father, who was born in Ireland, but I don't think they're all that helpful… I don't know any Spanish or Portuguese, but I know some French."

"Such as?"

The boy looked up in thought before muttering a phrase in French. Achilles couldn't stop the cackle that escaped when he translated that the recruit had said he spoke "shitty French." The recruit smiled with a flash of teeth, seeming relieved he successfully brought humor into the tense conversation. But the lightness disappeared very quickly. Achilles became solemn again as he reviewed what he had been told.

The recruit was rough around the edges, but he could be polished with some work. He certainly seemed like a sturdy rock, like Liam had promised. A small smile crawled onto Achilles's face. Yes, he seemed promising enough. But there was one more thing to prove…

Achilles slowly stood up, successfully making a show. He rounded his chair in careful, powerful strides, cautiously making his way to a dresser in the corner of the room. He could feel the boy's curious gaze following him, watching him carefully. Achilles spoke to distract him.

"You seem quite an interesting individual," the man commented. "Certainly more diverse than others that I have seen. I see why Liam spoke highly of you."

Even though Achilles wasn't looking at the recruit, he could sense his face lighting up at the mention of his friend.

"Aye, we've known each other for as long as we can remember," the boy piped. "He saved my arse a few times."

"Ah," Achilles drawled, settling by the desk. A bowl of apples rested motionlessly on its top, ripe for picking. The man plucked one up and rolled it in his palm, observing it like he was at the market. "But… can you save your own arse?"

Without warning, in an inhumane, cat-like motion, Achilles spun around, pitching the apple directly at the recruit in deadly accuracy. In a blink of an eye, the fruit landed in the boy's palm, successfully intercepted from hitting the recruit in the face. Achilles smiled again, but it was from his own thoughts more than the boy's priceless face of confusion. The Mentor straightened.

"You will make a fine addition indeed. Welcome to the Assassin Brotherhood, Shay Cormac."

* * *

Achilles jolted awake with a gasp. Disorientation clouded his senses for a moment, having a stab of panic strike him. It immediately disappeared when the retired Assassin recognized he was in his chair in the study. The old man sighed. He fell asleep again. That's all he did lately. Sleep and tend to the horses. A trip to town or the frontier in order to get supplies every once in a while. There was nothing else to do.

Achilles groaned as he shifted the chair in order to stand. Now a habit, the old Mentor snatched his cane and pushed on it to rise to his feet. As he began to walk (or limp, rather) around the desk, he still felt that dull pain in his leg. Damn Kenway.

The old man trudged to the kitchen. Sometimes he still felt like he could peer around a corner to see a Master Assassin lounging in his home… or Abigail or Connor at peace. But no. The Homestead was empty. Always empty. It has been so for six years. Six years since…

Even now Achilles felt the stab of pain when he thought of it. Six years since the Brotherhood was destroyed. When _Shay_ had destroyed it. After he betrayed his Brothers. Achilles trembled. His student… His favorite student… The Mentor had such hopes for him. He could easily see the boy becoming a Master Assassin. And in order respect Liam's wish of solitude, Achilles even considered making his apprentice his successor. But the world was not so forgiving.

Shay betrayed him, and it was the Brotherhood that paid the price. When Achilles thought of it, a multitude of emotions welled in his chest. Anger, sorrow, regret, shame. Numerous others that could not be named. Achilles closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. If he had listened to his apprentice and not acted so harshly… Maybe…

Achilles shook his head. No. How was he supposed to know the consequences of his actions?! And Shay had questioned the Brotherhood. Broke the Tenets. He had to be punished. How would Achilles know if the child's faith would waver again? He was protecting his Order! The pain returned. Only when he did, he doomed the Brotherhood as well. _Shay was right._

Achilles gave a heavy sigh. This was not the first time he dreamed of his misfortunes, nor did he doubt it would be the last. That's all he did these days. Blame the world for his misery.

Suddenly a harsh knock from the door ripped him from his thoughts. Achilles actually started from the noise, not expecting it. He turned slowly towards it, first glancing over his shoulder with a hooked eyebrow before moving his body. Who in the world was that? It was not like Achilles got visitors…

The Mentor's gut twisted when he realized that he _did_. Either brigands from the frontier hoping to gain a profit on a large, unguarded manor or Templars "checking up" on him. Sometimes Faulkner, during his drunken fits or begging for supplies. Achilles sighed. Considering he lost the miscreants outside the valley and he saw a Templar spy on the edge of his property only a few days ago, the ex-Assassin assumed it was the latter. The impatient, hard pounding only supported his hypothesis.

Curses rolling off Achilles's tongue as he hobbled towards the door, which continued to bang. Officially annoyed, the old man ripped the door open. However, he still kept halfway-shut, just in case he needed to slam it in a hurry.

It was not what he was expecting. It was not Faulkner, nor was it a Templar.

It was a native.

He was possibly in his teens at most, being short and slender with a flawless face. However Achilles could already see his rippling muscles and broad shoulders. Wait. Already the Mentor could see. The native boy had the dark skin and hair of his people, but his dark brown eyes and stern expression burned with familiarity. Ziio? No. Achilles hadn't seen her since…

…Since he agreed to keep her secret.

The boy was Haytham Kenway's son.

His name was Ra… Ra-something. Achilles wasn't even going to try to pronounce it. He had spent great effort to befriend the local native tribes and even tried to learn their language, but always butchered it. He eventually gave up.

But yes, the boy was in fact Ziio and Haytham's child.

He asked to be trained. Immediately that unforgiving stab of pain in Achilles's chest returned, followed by a rush of anger. He did not hesitate to refuse the boy. Did he not see?! Did it look like the old man had any desire to busy with such affairs? Over a fairy tale?!

No. Not after Shay. Never again. Achilles had placed all his dreams and hopes and trust in Shay, only for the bastard to rip it all away. The Mentor may have respected his student's decision somewhere in his heart, but he did not forgive him. Then what about all the others he had trained in the Brotherhood? Liam. Hope. Dozens more. All of them were dead because of his teachings. And the one he saw as a second son had betrayed him. He lost faith in apprenticeship. He would not allow it to happen again. To have another failure.

But just like his parents, the boy was stubborn. _Very_ stubborn . Eventually Achilles had to admit he was impressed. Especially when the native held his own against a band of trespassers and confessed he had been sent by Those Who Came Before. And already he reminded the old man of Shay… _No_. He couldn't think like that. This boy was nothing like his others students.

Achilles named him Connor, after his _real_ son. Because that's what he seemed like. A stubborn son. Already Achilles could see that pouty chin and the serious look when he thought—just like his Connor.

The native wanted to redeem and save his people, as well as revive the Brotherhood. It was not going to be easy. But maybe… Achilles could have hope.

Have hope that Connor was not Shay.


	2. Chapter 2

The Davenport Homestead was always busy. It had to be, being the headquarters of the Assassin Brotherhood. Sailors came to and fro from the docks, gang members came as messengers or as guard, Assassins trained and conducted missions. Abigail and Connor were patient with all the strangers in their home, minding their own business. Abigail actually enjoyed the Assassins, treating them and humoring their presence. She knew she was the Mentor's wife, and readily acted like so. She even kept the manor open at all hours.

However, keeping up such a place required work. With the help of Abigail, Achilles was able to place a convenient system. There would be shifts of who would do missions and who would do chores around the Homestead. Usually the Master Assassins were excluded, always having better things to do than housework. Visitors were spared as well. But for any permanent member: footmen, apprentices, or low-ranked Assassins, were required to do any chores that had to be done.

Achilles always felt amusement when it was Shay's shift to do work on the Homestead. He would always grumble and like a child, try to find some excuse to escape:

"Liam wants me."

"I have to meet a contact in New York."

"La Chevalier gave me a mission. You didn't know?"

However, the boy always eventually gave up and loyally did what he was told. He would never obnoxiously complain; maybe a couple words to Liam. Achilles's amusement grew to the brink of sadism as he dropped a large armful of wood in front of the young Assassin. The look on Shay's face was priceless. Achilles didn't try to hide his grin. He gestured to the discarded wood when he noticed his apprentice's frozen posture.

"What are you waiting for? Work," the Mentor smirked.

"You're mad."

Achilles chuckled under his breath at the retort. Already there was a large pile of chopped firewood by Shay. He was almost done with the stack of fresh wood when the older Assassin dropped his load. He could understand the boy's tiredness. Shay held the axe expertly, but Achilles could see the subtle tremble in his arms. A shiny coat of sweat covered the boy's skin, the Assassin having to wipe his brow with his sleeve with an exhausted groan.

Shay's time with the Assassins served him well. A healthy layer of fat grew over his bones and his muscles were toned to nearly double his weight. His had lost that lifeless gaze and now his eyes gleamed with carefree mischief. He was still pale, though, but that was mostly thanks to his Assassin robes he constantly wore and the lack of being at sea. His dark hair was cleaned from being dull and greasy to glossy and smooth. It was still mangy, almost falling to his shoulders with bangs in his eyes. A scruffy beard surrounded his smooth lips. He was also much more comfortable with his new life, cracking jokes with the gang members when before he had been quiet and timid. Achilles was pleased.

The Mentor heard his apprentice grumble a stream of Irish curses under his breath. Achilles rolled his eyes. Abigail was right: Shay _did_ need to improve his manners. Nonetheless, the boy dutifully picked up another log and braced to chop it.

"I just don't know how this is supposed to help the Brotherhood," Shay complained. "If I wanted to cut wood all day, I could have become a car—"

He was interrupted when Achilles smacked the back of his head with the butt of his pistol. The young Assassin let out a cry of pain a little louder than necessary and clutched his head.

"What was that for?!" the boy demanded.

"It teaches you to respect your superiors, first of all," Achilles chided. "And it _does_ teach you how to wield an axe."

Shay just replied with a look of disbelief, possibly a little more upset considering he was struck in the head. He would never act on it, though. To prove it, Achilles cocked a challenging eyebrow at him. When Shay swallowed uncertainly and shifted his feet, the old Assassin struck. Once again using his supreme agility, Achilles swiped his pistol at his apprentice. This time Shay was ready, effectively ducking away. The Mentor gave a smirk of approval while his student stepped away, watching him cautiously for another assault.

Instead Achilles only gave a nod, telling he was satisfied and that he wanted peace. Shay understood and went back to work, putting a log in place and repositioning the axe in his hands. Achilles meanwhile pulled out a book he had been reading and sat on a chair and table set nearby. One of the old Assassin's favorite hobbies was to read outside, which was why he had the table brought over. Another pastime he loved was to spend personal time with his apprentices. So it was perfect for Achilles to do both at the same time. All with the fair weather overhead and the fresh scent of the frontier in his nostrils, with the rhythmic _chop_ of Shay's axe from behind. Perfect, indeed.

Suddenly a scuffle of footsteps interrupted him.

"Achilles!" a deep, accented voice called.

Achilles stopped reading. No, it couldn't be… Only when the Mentor looked up, his suspicions were confirmed. Achilles let out a laugh of joy.

"Adéwalé! It has been a long time," he exclaimed, dropping his book and rising.

The Mentor approached the Maroon, welcoming him with a warm embrace. The legendary Assassin had aged. He had grown a gray beard around his lips and the deep crevices of wrinkles lay under his eyes. However his light brown eyes and smile were just as bright as when he was young.

"How go things in the West Indies?" Achilles asked.

Adéwalé's expression immediately went solemn, a look he carried frequently, but it seemed stronger this time. "Very poorly, I'm afraid."

His look was all Achilles needed, the Mentor nodding in understanding. "Your countenance tells me we should discuss this. Come."

A hand on his old friend's shoulder, Achilles guided Adéwalé to the porch next to the manor. He glanced over his shoulder to see Shay and Liam whispering to one another in a private conversation. The Assassin saw his apprentice's gaze filled with interest as he watched the legendary pirate.

The Mentor requested La Chevalier if he could guard the meeting as the old comrades caught up. Achilles listened as Adéwalé told him of the earthquake in Haiti and of the fears he had of the Templars. Even though, the Assassin wanted to laugh. But it was not in joy of seeing his old friend. Did Shay _really_ think his Mentor could not see him?

The boy was expertly hidden within some bushes next to the porch, his pale robes blending perfectly with the green foliage. Somehow he snuck past La Chevalier. However, Achilles had a sharp eye, easily being able to spot him. His black hair shining in the sun gave him away, too. Maybe it was better dull. The Assassin knew it was nothing harmful; that it was only Shay being curious. Achilles wondered if Adéwalé had noticed him as well, but brushed it away. Of course he knew. However the Caribbean Assassin played along, politely ignoring the eavesdropper.

Halfway through the meeting, Achilles bat an eye to where Shay had been hiding, only to see his apprentice was long gone. He must have either gotten bored or realized Hope was searching for him and did not want to suffer her wrath. Achilles didn't even hear him leave. Another mental smirk. His apprentice had improved.

After Achilles and Adéwalé had caught up on everything that could be said, the two went their separate ways. Adéwalé went to load the supplies onto his ship to send back to Haiti while Liam approached his Mentor. Liam was Achilles's first apprentice. Originally just an errand boy, the Assassin found himself teaching the younger man everything he knew. If Shay was his favorite, then Liam was his best student. The Assassin was loyal to the cause and independent in will. He never failed a task and never failed to disappoint his Mentor. He was perfect in every way, unlike Shay who was still being polished into a Master Assassin.

"So, how goes Shay's training?" the Mentor asked.

"He's improved quite nicely," Liam replied. "His shot's becoming as good as mine—don't tell him I said that, though. He'll make a fine Master Assassin yet."

Achilles nodded in approval. They discussed a few more things of the Brotherhood's affairs before the Irishman departed. The Mentor was looking out over the cove, watching the ships below with their sailors moving about and their flags waving the Assassin insignia sketched across them. Achilles immediately recognized the quick, light footsteps of Shay as the Assassin approached.

"Shay!" the Mentor greeted as he turned to his apprentice. "I've heard you've become quite the marksman."

The boy slowed and his eyes immediately lit up when he saw the well-crafted pair of flintlocks Achilles presented to him. However his movements were still tentative, cautiously taking the pair. Shay glanced at them as if he didn't believe it was the Mentor giving them.

"Generous gift," he hummed. "Thank you, Mentor."

He said it sincerely, even nodding his head in an informal bow. Achilles smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

Achilles knew quite well that Shay was notorious with children. While the other Assassins adored Achilles's son, Connor, and sometimes spared time to play with him, Shay was not as comfortable. However, he knew the child was his Mentor's son, so the Assassin tolerated him. Unfortunately for him, Connor worshipped the older boy, following him around on his heels like a puppy dog. Usually Shay would either humor him or politely ignored him. Today it was the latter.

Achilles watched from afar, hidden out of sight, as the young Assassin was heading for the docks, seemingly oblivious as Connor trotted up behind him.

"Master Shay!" the young boy hollered.

Shay glanced over his shoulder but didn't slow his pace. He must have feared he would be roped into another eight-year-old adventure, because he quickly found an excuse. "Sorry, lad, I have to head out on the _Morrigan_. I have a mission."

Ah, the _Morrigan_. Shay acted like a jovial boy retrieving a new toy with his ship. It was all he ever talked about, boasting to the other sailors of how proud his father's soul must be that he was a captain of his own ship. Little did the Assassin know the sailors were competitive, rebuking his claims with praises of the greater ships. The _Gerfaut_ , the _Storm Fortress_ , and the _Aquila_. They would not be bested with a puny sloop-of-war. Shay didn't care. The fact he had a ship and he could be out at sea again was enough for him.

Achilles was brought out of his thoughts from his son's loud voice.

"But I have a gift for you, Master Shay!" Connor exclaimed.

Achilles blinked the same time Shay did. Now the Assassin stopped short while Achilles registered what he heard. A gift? He didn't know anything about that. He knew Connor adored Shay, but he honestly didn't think his son was that thoughtful. The Mentor watched with interest as Shay turned around squatted to the child's level.

"Well? Can I see it?" he invited.

Connor's dark skin reddened for a moment, obviously having cold feet. However he quickly swallowed his nervousness. He fished in his pocket for a moment before holding out the present with two open palms. Shay's eyes widened while Achilles had to squint to see what was cradled in the boy's hands. What he saw surprised him.

It was a beaded necklace, like the ones the natives made. It was nothing feminine, the beads making only a single strand of wood and bone. A few fringes hung from it with a feather of a hawk. Shay was blinking as if in a trance as he picked it up and cradled in his own hands, observing it.

"You made this?" he questioned.

"Kesegowaase taught me," Connor explained. "I know you like to visit the Indian tribes, so I thought—"

Finally the boy's nerve failed him, his statement trailing off as his words slipped away. He looked down in embarrassment. Shay only smiled and his black eyes gleamed.

"That's quite thoughtful of you, thank you," the Assassin chimed.

Connor looked up and smiled, obviously proud of his accomplishment. To show his gratitude, Shay slipped the necklace over his head and tucked it underneath his collar, so it would be close to his heart. Achilles made the decision to reveal himself, slipping from his hiding place. He approached the two on silent footsteps, neither of them noticing him.

"A thoughtful gift, indeed," he purred. Both of them started, Connor looking with wide eyes and Shay leaping to his feet.

"Mentor!" the Assassin practically cried.

Achilles gave him a reassuring smile and pat on the shoulder. "Be at peace. I did not mean to startle you."

"No, you didn't really, sir—"

The Mentor cut off his half-hearted attempt to regain some dignity. "It's good to see you and Connor within each other's confidence."

Shay nodded humbly and flashed a smile. "Your son's a good kid," he complimented, even rubbing a gloved hand on Connor's bald head, making him giggle.

Achilles smiled, those words having more meaning to him than the young Irishman thought. He opened his mouth to reply, but was suddenly interrupted. Without warning, Connor broke out into a coughing fit, nearly doubling over. Immediately both men turned to him in concern. Shay placed a careful hand on the child's shoulder.

"You alright, lad?" the Assassin inquired.

"Yes," Connor assured, even though it was through a cough. Finally he straightened again like nothing ever happened. The Assassins still weren't convinced.

"You should go rest somewhere," Shay suggested. "No point overdoing yourself."

Achilles nodded in agreement. "Go find your mother, Connor."

Connor made a face. "Mama's not feeling well."

Achilles's eyes widened. He hadn't heard anything like that. Abigail seemed fine the last he spoke with her. The man glanced over to see Shay wearing an uncomfortable look and shifting.

"Go be with your family, Mentor," the boy suggested. "I really do have a mission I must get to."

Achilles nodded, even though he felt uncertainly building in his stomach. Shay gave a respectful dip of his head before scuttering off. Meanwhile Connor was already making his way back to the manor, another fit of coughing capturing his body. Achilles went after him, a horrible sense of dread taking hold of him.

How was he supposed to know? What could he have done? No, he should have. He should have done something. Then nothing would have happened. Achilles wouldn't enter the home one day, only to find Shay cradling a deathly still Connor.


	4. Chapter 4

It was unfair. It was unfair… It was _unfair_!

This kept repeating in Achilles's mind over and over and over. Abigail and Connor… they were dead. His whole world. His reason of existence. Gone. And it filled Achilles with fury.

How could life be this way? Was this what he was fighting for? He did everything he could do to protect them, only for them to die anyway. What had he done _wrong_? The man did everything he could! No. He didn't. If he paid attention more… noticed the signs… But he didn't. The Mentor saw building the Assassin Order more important. He ignored his loved ones when they needed him the most. It was his _fault_. He shouldn't deserve to live…

Achilles's eyes were burning and he peered through the watery film at the dagger in his palm… Pointed at his stomach. All it would take was a single thrust. But Achilles was no fool. After killing so many, he was experienced in the art of death. A stab to the stomach was a slow and painful death. Good. He wanted it like that. The man wanted to suffer the same death as his family, as punishment for his ignorance. It would accommodate quite well.

Achilles drew a breath and acted.

But he didn't. The Mentor watched with both interest and surprise when he arm only twitched. Achilles sent the command again. _Strike!_ Nothing. His hand did not move. The tip of the dagger was an inch from his abdomen. He did not have to go far. So why didn't it move?!

Achilles's hand was shaking violently. His whole body was trembling. His breath was stuttering and irregular. He felt his blood roaring and his heart pounding in his ears. His throat was raw and constricted. He couldn't even swallow. Everything was unfocused and red, only the dagger was clear through the water in Assassin's eyes.

No. Achilles could not do it.

But he had to! He had nothing to fight for!

With a savage growl, the Mentor attempted again. This time it was a larger twitch, the dagger even closing the distance. But it stopped the moment it touched the cloth of his shirt. It did not move. With a roar, Achilles thrust the blade away, slamming it on the table with a loud bang. The man collapsed in his hands, unable to stop the rivers that flowed from his eyes. His shoulders shuddered violently as his sobs filled the air.

Coward. Coward. Coward. He had no right to be called an Assassin! Here he was, the Mentor of the Colonial Assassin Brotherhood, and he could not overcome a simple animal instinct. He had killed dozens upon dozens of men, many without a second thought. And he could not take his own when he knew he should. But he was too afraid. He feared death himself. More than anything else in the world. Apparently more than his family. In a moment of madness, Achilles wanted to laugh.

Oh, such irony! An Assassin, a harbinger of death, and he could not take a life! An Assassin feeling sympathy for his enemies! Yes, if _he_ was scared of death, what of all those he had killed? Achilles's stomach became strained from resisting the laughing. An Assassin who loved himself more than those he protected! Oh, the humor, indeed!

Achilles tried to force himself to chuckle, only for a choking sob to escape. He let his head fall again. It did not matter. His family was dead. How was he supposed to carry on as Mentor? How could his disciples look at him again, knowing he was this weak? How could he stay proud and firm in the Creed when it ruined his life?

Later Achilles would thank God that he happened to stop wailing for a moment. He did not hear the footsteps until it was too late.

"Mentor?"

Achilles started. He spun around, almost jumping up from his chair. He immediately saw who had disturbed him. Shay.

How had he—? Why was he here? Achilles asked to be left alone. The man desperately tried to remember if the door was locked or not, but of no avail. Did Shay break in or did he really wander in by accident? The Mentor didn't put either passed him.

The boy had regained his timid look, looking at him like a child fearing punishment. His form was hunched and his expression was strained and apologetic, almost seeming like he was braced to flee. After a moment, Achilles saw helplessness as well. Did he look that pitiful?

The Mentor tried to make his voice sound strong, but he knew he failed. "What do you want, Shay?"

Achilles did not care how it sounded—fake politeness or a rude tone. Did his apprentice not see he wanted to be alone? Did he have any idea what had just transpired? Shay shifted his feet uncomfortably and his jaws clenched as a strange look went over his face. Achilles quickly understood. He was disturbed. It disturbed the boy to see his strong and wise Mentor this weak. He had a reason to.

However, the Assassin knew the Mentor wanted a reply, making him shift again. Achilles could practically see his mind racing as he thought of something to say. The man knew Shay was avoiding "I was checking on you" or "I was worried about you," fearing either may be offending. He was correct.

"I was… wondering if you were going to train me tomorrow," the boy finally settled on.

It sounded more like a suggestion than a plea. A distraction for Achilles. It would be a very poor one. In the dark mood he was in, the Mentor wanted to berate his apprentice. But the wise man he was must have been still alive, because he rejected the idea. Shay was only trying to care for his teacher. To give the same kindness he had been given. How loyal he was…

Even though, Achilles was unaffected. "No, I cannot. Ask Kesegowaase or Liam to teach you."

Immediately Shay's mouth twitched into a frown of disappointment. He had failed and Achilles knew he was not pleased with the solution. The Mentor was aware the Master Assassins of the Order picked on him, especially La Chevalier. Either because they envied he was favored or it was some part of an initiation process. Shay groaned more to train with them than when he had to do chores. Half the time he would complain to Achilles afterwards.

Achilles didn't care at the moment. Shay was being too sensitive. He needed to grow up. The world was not perfect and full of fairy tales. It was a long… _long_ way from being such. His apprentice would need to understand the harshness of this blasted world if he ever hoped to dream in becoming a Master Assassin.

Feeling another wave of fury and emotion coming on, the Mentor waved his hand, dismissing his disciple. Shay did not hesitate to give a quick, respectful bow before fleeing. Achilles did not blame him.

The man turned back to see his hand tightening in a bone-white fist. This world was cruel, indeed…


	5. Chapter 5

It would take a long time for Achilles to recover. Or close as recovery could be. He was a broken man now. Achilles was well aware of that. It was a slow process. Eventually after days being locked in his room, the Mentor wandered out into the Assassin village. The Assassins who would see him would give him a respectful distance or careful words. At first his walks were brief, but they eventually grew longer and longer. He began holding conversations with his subordinates, which evolved into giving orders to his Brotherhood. However, he had to thank Shay for keeping him back to his feet.

The old Assassin was wondering aimlessly around the Homestead, trying to fight off the looming depression, when he heard faint grunts and thumps of impact. Curious and looking for a distraction, Achilles followed the sound. Sure enough, he found Shay all alone, surrounded by a ring of dummies. The young Assassin was in a battle stance as if the targets were real, clutching his sword in his right hand. But what Achilles saw in his left hand made the Assassin blink. A dagger. A parrying dagger, by the looks of it.

The Mentor watched with interest as his apprentice charged a dummy again. Shay gave it a diagonal slash, having the sac split and hay to leak out. The Assassin immediately followed it up and twisted to slice his dagger into the sac, no doubt gutting the person it if had been real. Impressive ferocity, especially considering the young man learned how to do it himself. However, Achilles still saw flaws in his form. The Mentor stepped out.

"Well done, Shay," he praised.

Immediately the Assassin spun around, startled. "Mentor!"

Achilles waved his hand in peace. "Please, continue."

The Irishman glanced at the older man with uncertainty, but nevertheless turned back around and shifted into another battle stance. Achilles watched as his apprentice performed a few mores strikes, observing his form even more. Finally he ordered the young man to pause.

"Hold a moment," he ordered.

Shay immediately did so mid-battle stance. He was frozen like a statue as Achilles neared him, circling around the boy like a predator. Achilles could sense the minor nervousness coming from his student, but Shay didn't show it. The old man calmly adjusted the Assassin's stance with taps of hands and boots until he was pleased. He waved for Shay to continue, which he did with eagerness. Achilles stepped back and continued to watch his deadly protégé.

* * *

The Mentor fell back into his old routine of teaching Shay, overseeing his lessons and correcting his fighting. The young Assassin seemed to improve rapidly, soon coming to par with Master Assassins. Yes, it wouldn't be long now. Achilles watched him with interest, not realizing he was being cold as well.

When they first trained together, the Mentor was lively with his apprentice, trading taunts and compliments. Now they barely spoke and rarely fought each other, Achilles usually only standing off to the side. They also used to converse and spend time with each other when there was a moment of freedom, but that did not occur anymore. They only saw a glance of each other outside of their lessons, even then they would only give a respectful acknowledgement. Never did they exchange light gestures and small talk like they used to. Achilles was in no mood for it. He had lost Connor because of his ignorance, he wouldn't let the same happen with Shay. He would do everything he could to make sure the cruelty of the world would not claim him as well. There was no time for pleasantries.

The next time they truly had a conversation was a year after death of Achilles's family. And it was not truly a pleasant one. Achilles was in Albany, after rendezvousing with his Master Assassins stationed there. It seemed the recovery of the Manuscript and the Precursor Box was successful, thanks to Shay. Now he would be tasked to complete what he had started.

The Mentor was on one of his walks touring the city when he noticed Shay resting on a bench overlooking the ocean. Instead of watching the rippling waters, the boy stared at the ground, furrowed eyebrows over his shadowed eyes. His hands were folded together between his legs, thumb unconsciously rubbing across his knuckles. Achilles tilted his head and narrowed his eyes before nearing. Shay didn't seem to notice as the Mentor sat next to him. That was strange.

"What troubles you, Shay?" the teacher questioned.

Finally the boy noticed him, looking up. "Huh? Oh, uh, nothing, Sir."

Achilles cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Strange, 'nothing' is not truly disturbing. Come, tell me."

Shay blinked a couple times before looking back to the soil between his feet. "It's about the Templars, Sir."

"Oh…?"

"You didn't see them, Mentor. How weak and defenseless they were. Washington was dying of from his own cough, stumbling around his manor worse than a drunk. And Smith, he could barely hold his sword straight."

"Do not waste your pity on them, Shay. They were not weak. They were Master Templars. You saved many by assassinating them. Besides, by doing so, you put them out of their misery."

Shay said nothing to that, not even reacting to the words. Instead he continued on, "Something Wardrop said disturbed me. He claimed our creed was flawed, and that if everything is permitted, then no one in this world would be safe."

Where was this all coming from? This was unlike Shay. He did not hesitate to mock their eternal enemies, so why was he sympathizing with them now? No, sympathy was the wrong word. Still, it made Achilles's lips twitch into a frown of distaste.

The Mentor leaned towards his apprentice and said in a soft voice, "Do you question the Brotherhood, Shay?"  
Even though the question was gentle, Shay flinched like it was much harsher. "No! Of course, not! I was just…"

The boy gave up, going limp with a sigh. Achilles supposed he couldn't be hard on him. Shay was growing now, finding out who he truly was and learning the ways of the world. Although his manners could still need improving, his heart was in the right place. A boy who upheld his morals and sought to do the right thing.

Although, Achilles believed that was unwise. The Assassins lived in the darkness of sin. To own morality was a dangerous thing. The man brushed it off. No, Shay would understand that. This was just a phase. He would grow out of it and find his place in life. Thinking of the assurance made Achilles smile, which was incredible rare these days.

"Go, Shay," the Mentor ordered. "Your ship awaits. It's alright to leave your troubles behind for the journey to Lisbon."  
Finally Shay looked him in the eye. "Yes, Sir."

The Assassin arose from his perch and made his leave. The master and student exchanged their farewells to each other before Shay made his way for the docks. He would find a ferry there that would take him to New York and on to Europe.

The thought gave Achilles the briefest of excitement. If the Brotherhood's intel was true, then the Apple of Eden would await Shay. The Piece of Eden the Assassin's had been searching for centuries. But it was not only that. If Shay… no, _when_ Shay returned with the Apple, he would have officially proved himself as an Assassin committed to the Brotherhood and the fight for freedom. This was not another mission for Shay. No, this journey would make him a Master Assassin.


	6. Chapter 6

Achilles stood as close to the fire as he could, bending over the warmth while rubbing his hands together. Winter had set in quickly. It told of a rather long season. Most days the Mentor stayed indoors, only going out for work. It was the same for the rest of the Homestead. The village that had been once bustling with activity was now cold and still.

"It won't be long before Shay returns," Hope mused. The Master Assassin was with him, going over finances and orders before returning to New York.

Achilles hummed with agreement. Six months had passed since the young Assassin's departure. The journey across the ocean was of three months. A round trip was six in total. However, it could be longer if the journey was unwell or if Shay experienced complications in Lisbon. But Achilles was not convinced of such. Shay was capable and he—

The Mentor never finished his thought as suddenly the door was thrust open with a deafening slam.

"So what's the next city you want me to smite?!" Shay demanded, voice filled with raw fury, most likely built up after months at sea.

Achilles spun around just in time to see his apprentice charging at him like a bull. Immediately the Mentor's defenses spiked when Shay aggressively invaded his personal space, their faces an inch apart. Achilles found himself wanting to flinch back from the feral look the boy wore.

"What happened in Haiti happened in Portugal," Shay snarled.

He looked like he was about to rip Achilles's throat out. The Mentor was even bracing to unsheathe his hidden blade until Hope raced over, wedging herself between them and shoving Shay away. The young man didn't even notice.

"A great earthquake," he hissed. "Thousands _dead_ , thanks to your damned Manuscript!"

He charged again with an accusing finger, only for Hope to shove him right back. Shay began pacing and shifting with his face twisted in a snarl, looking more like a lion than a man. Achilles narrowed his eyes dangerously. What was he talking about? A Piece of Eden causing an earthquake?

"This cannot be," the Mentor insisted.

"Shay, a person cannot start an earthquake," Hope added.

It was impossible. Achilles watched his unstable student with grating nerves. What had caused this? Was this the Apple's doing? The Mentor had read that the artifact could create powerful illusions. Could it have affected Shay? Or worse, had it turned against him and this was a puppet? Both of the Assassin's arms were tensed, hidden blades at ready.

"A person meddling with these Precursor machines could," Shay retorted, continuing his deadly pacing. "You saw the Box, Hope. The Temple was filled to bursting with that kind of power."

Even though the Master Assassin held her ground, Achilles could see her nervousness. Hope looked to him for help. Unfortunately Shay followed her gaze, locking with Achilles's. The Mentor watched the fire in his eyes grow tenfold.

"You made me SLAUGHTER INNOCENTS!"

Shay lunged again and Achilles braced to retaliate, only for Hope to intercept the lesser Assassin.

"How dare you!" Hope spat.

Shay leaped back to focus his burning glare on her, his voice filled with angry disbelief. "You defend him? Achilles sent me in there like Mackandal sent his man in Haiti." The Assassin looked back Achilles. " _YOU BASTARD_!"

Shay looked like he was going to pounce again, but Achilles was never so grateful for the door to burst open again. Liam stormed in, attracted by the commotion, looking at his friend with alarm.

"What the hell is going on?" the Irishman demanded. He grabbed Shay mid-pounce and dragged him back with raw strength. "Stop this!"

The Master Assassin barged his way in front of Shay, holding him in place. Achilles was just as deadly now. This had gone on long enough. If this was the Apple…

"The operation was delicate," Achilles started, "perhaps you—"

"You are shifting the earth itself!" Shay cut off. Now both Liam and Hope were pushing him back, forming a wall between the vengeful Assassin and their Mentor. All the while Shay was trying to force his way between them, swiping claws at Achilles who was just out of his each. "Who are you to decide what city falls next?!"

 _Enough_. "Get him out of here!" Achilles demanded.

Sure enough, the Master Assassins shoved Shay out of the room, Liam restraining him as Hope slammed the door shut, locking it in place. Deafening silence filled the room. Hope glanced from the door to Achilles, eyes filled with confusion and worry. Achilles remained solemn, almost emotionless. The Mentor crossed the room to look through the window, arriving just in time to see Liam dragging a failing Shay out of the manor.

"Get off me!" Shay demanded savagely. Liam immediately let go, allowing Shay to violently shrug him off and leap away. Achilles narrowed his eyes as he watched the Assassin continue his pacing.

"Achilles cannot get away with this, Liam!" Shay ranted. "The Mentor has gone too far."

"Enough, Shay," Liam retorted, voice like stone.

Shay whipped around. "What."

"Enough." The Irishman folded his arms, blocking the path between Shay and the manor. "Let it go."

Now the younger Assassin was frozen as the ice around him, staring at his shipmate with disbelief. "What are you saying?"

"No good will come out of any of this. What's done is done and throwing a fit will solve nothing. Leave it be, Shay."

Now Shay's eyes were widening. Even with the sound being muted through the window, Achilles could still hear the hurt and betrayal in the young man's voice.

"I thought you were my friend…"

"I am, Shay," Liam replied, although his tone was far too flat. "But Achilles is the Mentor."

Then Achilles saw it. That glare he would learn to hate. Suddenly Shay furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes, a darkness shadowing his gaze.

"That's how it is, then," Shay growled in the same manner.

The rogue Assassin spun around on his heels and stormed into the woods.


	7. Chapter 7

Achilles wasn't surprised that Shay returned from the woods later than night. The boy would disappear into the forest to be alone with his thoughts, but would never be too long. After all, tonight the temperature was far too unforgiving to stay. But something was wrong. Achilles's skin crawled and dread manifested in his stomach as he watched Shay ducking between the undergrowth that surrounded the Homestead, carefully watching his footsteps. A strange heat filled the Assassin's chest. Oh, so that's what it had come to.

The Mentor watched from his study's window as a hooded Shay slipped closer and closer to the manor. The young Assassin would freeze or start whenever he thought he heard a nearing figure or an ominous whistle. Even from here, Achilles could see his breath forming a thick mist in the chilling, still air. How the boy cautiously looked around made the man wonder if Shay could see him. Probably so.

Finally Shay vanished from view as his form crawled under the frame of the windowsill. Sure enough, not even a moment later, the Assassin heard the creaking hinges of the front door, somewhat strained as the intruder attempted to keep it silent. Shay was in the house. The Mentor prowled across the room and out into the hallway, his heavy footsteps no doubt being heard from below. Achilles ducked into another room, slamming the door behind as he stormed to where his pistols were kept. Just in case.

The Mentor activated his Eagle Sense to feel Shay stalk onto the second story, his light footsteps remaining quiet. The Assassin immediately snuck into the study where Achilles had been moments ago. The strange heat flared. The old Assassin soundlessly left his hiding place, walking on silent footsteps as he peered at Shay from the shadows. The rogue had found the locked desk of the Manuscript, wedging his hidden blade into the wood and breaking it open.

"There's no turning back now," Shay murmured.

 _Oh_. So that's how it was. The rogue Assassin snatched the Manuscript and slipped into his robes, oblivious to Achilles looming behind him.

"I had such hopes for you, Shay…" the Mentor rumbled.

Shay whirled around and stopped dead when saw his Mentor. "Achilles." Seeing the senior Assassin's dangerous stalk, the Irishman shook his hand as if in a gesture of peace. "I-I have to do this."

"And what is you are doing exactly? Stealing from your Brothers? Betraying me?"

Shay retreated away from Achilles, looking like the man was holding him at knifepoint. He may as well have.

"Someone must make amends," the rogue insisted, trying to keep the fear from his voice. No student wanted to face their teacher's wrath.

"Make amends?" Achilles echoed. His voice became deadlier. "You have no idea what you're doing. The future of the whole continent, maybe the whole _world_ , is tied up in that Manuscript!"

The Mentor pointed to where the Piece of Eden was stashed in Shay's clothing, telling him he knew where it was. The rogue followed his gaze to his belly, glancing back. Achilles's skin crawled. That _glare_. That dark glare.

"Perhaps…" Shay hissed, voice dark and low. "But we don't have the right to decide that future."

In a moment of boldness, the young man took a defiant step forward. Achilles couldn't believe this.

"The _right_?!" he gasped. "We have the _responsibility_!"

" _We_ are responsible for killing innocents and destroying cities!" Shay's raised voice dropped even lower to a savage growl. "This made grab for power… It ends now."

Achilles shook his head. No! This could not be! His student could not betray him like this! A red haze of fury filled his vision and rage sped up his blood and adrenaline. Shay. His apprentice. His successor. His son. A traitor.

"I will not let you destroy everything we have built!" the Mentor roared.

Without warning, the Assassin snatched Shay's robes in a painful grip, ramming into him. Shay could not have fought back even if he wanted to, submitting to his teacher's superior strength. If he gasped as the wind was stolen from him, Achilles didn't hear it. Instead his hearing was split as he slammed Shay into the window, the glass shattering on impact. Instead of tossing the rogue out of the frame, Achilles hauled him back in, turning around and violently throwing the Irishman onto a nearby table.

The traitor landed at an awkward angle that had him ricochet onto the floor, no doubt sore and breathless. The Mentor didn't care. Seeing red, Achilles charged toward him like a bear, unsheathing his hidden blade to pierce it into Shay's neck. He never got the chance as he underestimated his esteemed apprentice. Just as Achilles closed in, Shay shot a leg out, striking the Mentor in the shin.

The man crippled from the lost balance with a shout of pain, giving Shay the opportunity to leap to his feet. Taking advantage of the Assassin's unstableness, the rogue shoved him aside, slamming him onto the desk. More glass broke as Shay leaped out the window, having the cold, unforgiving wind blast into the study. Achilles didn't care, already leaping onto his feet and lunging for the window.

"Assassins!" he roared into the night, knowing his subordinates would heed his call. "Stop him! Stop Shay!"

To make sure he would be heard, the Mentor bit his lip in a high-pitched whistle. The cry of the eagle. It was then the Assassin noticed Shay scrambling through the underbrush, having Achilles draw out his pistol and fire. Shay cried when it nicked his leg, forcing the rogue right into the open. Immediately a gangster patrolling the grounds noticed him, quickly putting two and two together. The man pulled out a flintlock, but instead of pointing it at Shay, fired into the night sky. Immediately the blazing red light of a flare burned above the Homestead. The reply couldn't have been more immediate.

A familiar _popping_ sound filled the air, although it was faint from distance. Achilles watched a rain of fiery cannonballs fall from the sky of a mortar strike. The Mentor leaped from the window, not knowing to curse or bless La Chevalier's ingenious.

Then the mortars struck.

Snow and debris flew in all directions with deafening _slams_ , throwing anyone nearby off their feet with startled screams of pain.

"Mortars!"

"Get out of here!"

"Has Chevalier gone mad? He'll destroy the manor!"

"He's using the mortars to stop Shay!"

"We'll be blast to pieces!"

No amount of ammunition could have hindered Shay, the rogue racing through the chaos at an impossible speed. He streaked by gang members before they could notice him and mortars missed him by inches. Achilles tore after, cursing under his breath that he was having a more difficulty pushing through it all. He wasn't surprised to see Shay heading for the shelter of the forest, but he never made it.

A mortar struck the base of a gigantic fir tree, having the flaming tower crash onto the ground with a deafening _crash_ , completely blocking Shay's path. The rogue didn't care, already veering off his course toward another angle, successfully staying several paces ahead of the Assassin footmen. Another curse. Achilles never realized his apprentice was so _fast_. Not fast enough, apparently.

Shay had just torn through an alcove that led into the forest when Liam appeared. With sharp thinking, the Master Assassin tore out a pistol and aimed it a powder keg set next to a boulder. Completely disregarding his friend's safety, Liam fired, creating a deadly rockslide falling on Shay. The rogue took a desperate leap forward, clumsily landing in a tangle of limbs. The rocks had missed him less than an inch. Achilles saw his direct path after the traitor was cut off, having him dart around the inconvenience. He knew he would keep pace though, especially as he heard Hope yell into the wind.

"You _will not_ hinder our plans!"

By now the entire village was in on the chase, footmen crawling all over the forest and Master Assassins dancing through the trees. Along with a rogue. Achilles glanced up to see Shay soaring through the canopy, dodging bullets and shouts aimed at him. How intelligent! The Mentor spotted a swift Kesegowaase streaking after him, steadily gaining pace.

"I will not let you run away!" the native yelled.

"How could you, Shay?" Hope wailed. "Won't you listen to reason? Have you gone mad?"

"Don't do this!" Liam roared.

Their yells fell on deaf ears as Shay did not slow his pace. Or they were swallowed by the wind, which was quickly growing into a blizzard. Possibly another reason Shay was slipping away; the snow was obscuring everyone's vision. But not Achilles. This was his land. He knew it better than anyone. And he knew where Shay was heading. The cliffs, by the looks of it. The traitor was heading for a dead end.

By now the rogue fell from the trees, tearing through ranks of Assassins as they swiped at him with swords and claws. Then sure enough, the edge of the cliff slipped into view. Shay charged right for it like he didn't see it was there, or braced to leap off. He didn't, though, the runaway skidding to a halt at the last moment. His shoulders heaved as he peered over the edge, which was no doubt was a couple hundred feet drop.

Shay was deathly still as the army of the Brotherhood caught up to him, successfully trapping him against the cliff. The gangsters wisely stood back, allowing the Master Assassins to confront the traitor. By now Achilles's inner circle had gathered, the Mentor beside his students Liam and Hope. Kesesgowaase loomed in the background and La Chevalier had scrambled onto the hill from where he had come from the docks.

"That's enough!" Liam roared, raising a flintlock to hold the rogue at bay.

Shay knew he was cornered, turning around to face them as he pulled down his hood.

"Give back the Manuscript, Shay," Hope ordered. "I'm sure Achilles—"

" _I cannot_!" Shay wailed.

If it was any other situation, Achilles's heart would have broken from the distraught filling the boy's voice. But it didn't, the Mentor watching with a soul colder than the air, face solemn.

"I will not let this happen again," the rogue went on. "All those souls lost…"

Shay backed away like the frightened animal he was, peering over his shoulder at the frigid water below. The barrel of Liam's gun never left him, but Achilles couldn't understand how. Instead of the steady, unmoving grip the Irishman usually held, the flintlock was trembling madly in his shaky fingers. Liam did not see a rogue. He saw his captain. His friend.

"One more hardly matters…"

Achilles looked back to Shay turn around and near the edge, gaze never leaving the sight below.

"Shay!" Liam called after him.

The flintlock shook.

A gunshot filled the air.

Achilles watched as Shay screamed in agony as a mist of blood flew from his shoulder. The force of the impact seemed to create enough momentum to push the rogue forward.

Shay fell.

Achilles snapped his head towards Liam, only to see the Master Assassin's face lit up in alarm and no smoke from his gun. Instead, the Mentor saw a second flintlock, a cloud of smoke blowing from the barrel. La Chevalier.

The air was silent. No one moved. Even the howling wind seemed to die. It was what allowed them to clearly hear the sickening _crack_ of impact. Achilles's chest was hollow.

He had lost his second son.


	8. Chapter 8

Months passed. All traces of the incident were erased. No one spoke of the night when the manor was almost destroyed and the village was thrown in panic. No one dared to breathe "Shay" or "the Manuscript." If Shay _had_ to mentioned, then it was simply "the rogue," or sometimes "the traitor."

Years passed. The Colonial Assassins were deteriorating. Gangs fell left and right and trained Assassins dropped like flies. Finances were cut to a bare minimum and influence was near nonexistent. More than half of the Order's contacts refused to speak with the Assassins. More than half the Brotherhood was dead. Now _he_ was simply known as "the traitor" or "the Assassin Hunter."

Achilles walked down the frozen hallway, the walls were glowing beneath the ice. Liam walked beside him, thick clouds of the man's breaths escaping his hood. The Master Assassin's head was always twitching as he scanned the walls, no doubt transfixed on the strange, gold glyphs that decorated them. Achilles was as well, glancing at them and the corridor before the pair. He knew the Ones That Came Before were strange, but he could never imagine one of their Temples being of this nature.

Liam and Achilles were alone as they traveled to its heart. The rest of the Brotherhood was stationed outside, guarding the Temple from unwanted guests. What was left of it, at least. The Mentor would not be surprised if many would not survive. But sacrifices had to be made. The Assassin traveled deeper into the ice, his heart just as cold. Perhaps colder.

At last, the tight quarters of the corridor opened up to a wide cavern. In the center was a large pillar that stretched to touch the ceiling far above. It was perfectly cut from the strange metal that made the Temple's walls. Only problem was, there was no floor. Achilles and Liam exchanged glances. The student just happened to shuffle closer to inspect the room when suddenly several _clanking_ sounds filled the air. Both Assassins started, shifting into battle stances and readying their weapons. It was unnecessary as several slabs of the glowing, strange metal rose from the abyss before them, joining together to create makeshift bridge that lead to the pillar. The comrades looked to each other again before continuing on.

Despite the hardness of his chest, Achilles could feel faint excitement coursing through his veins. At long last! He had _found_ it! The Apple of Eden! The sacred artifact that had been used by the legendary Assassins Ezio Auditore and Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad to create the strongest Brotherhoods in the history of the Assassins. And if the legends were true, it was the same Apple used by Adam and Eve that founded humanity. Achilles would be next. He would use the Apple's power to rebuild his Order and make stronger than ever before. He would use it to banish the Templars that had invaded his land and killed his Brothers. This time, there would be no mistakes.

The broad pillar reacted to the Assassins' approach, coming alive with a hum. Suddenly it began to move, splitting in half as a section sunk away. Half of the pillar disappeared, replaced by a shining, star-shaped object hovering silently over a skinny pedestal. Achilles's breath caught in his throat. Was this it? Then it felt like a cannonball slammed into the Mentor's gut. Wait, something was wrong. Completely memorized, Liam reached towards the Artifact, appearing to be in a trance.

"Is this the Apple?" he asked.

"No, don't touch anything," Achilles snapped.

He slapped the Assassin's hand away. Liam stared back him in confusion, but Achilles ignored him.

No… No. _No_. This was a star, not a sphere! This did not pulsate with unimaginable power! The Artifact did not have to. The Mentor could feel it in his bones. This was _not_ the Apple. _NO._

"Shay was right…" Achilles sighed.

Immediately the name turned Liam's eyes dangerous. "What would he know?"

"More than me, apparently."

Shay had not been fooled by illusion. Shay had not betrayed his Mentor out of selfishness.

 _Shay was right_.

The following dismay that captured Achilles was so strong that he barely heard a set of footsteps from behind.

"Now you understand, _Achilles_."

The dark voice was filled with venom and bitterness, spitting his name with detest. Achilles's skin crawled. The voice had deepened with age, but he could recognize it anywhere. Shay. But as the Mentor turned around, he realized it was not _his_ Shay.

No, the Templar before him was completely different. Pitch-black hair was pulled back into a crimson tie, exposing just as dark eyes that were narrowed dangerously. A red scar cut across his right eye, reaching from his brow to his cheek. His once pale skin was now a red hue from constant sun exposure, although it still kept its Irish fairness. His scratchy beard had grown across his cheeks as whiskers, which just happened to be left untrimmed. Achilles found himself bristling as he observed the outfit, which was a mixture of shadowy black and bloody red, littered with dozens of Templar symbols. This was the Assassin Hunter Shay Cormac. The Shay Achilles knew died long ago.

He wore the same glare, though. _That_ glare. The glare that Achilles hated. The glare that made his apprentice betray him.

"This is a structure to hold the world together, not a weapon to control it," Shay spat, voice and eyes burning almost as much as that night. "This whole calamity could have been avoided if you had only _listened_ to me."

Despite the frigidness in Achilles's heart, he felt the flare of heat when he caught on to the condescending tone. The Mentor rounded on the Templar, using the anger to create a mask of strength.

"Disrespectful to the end," Achilles growled.

"Yes, we've been working on that," a British accent drawled.

Kenway? The Mentor bat an eye to see the Templar Grandmaster slipping from the shadows beside Shay, looking as pompous as ever with his hands behind his back. British arrogance.

"Right or wrong, Shay," Liam cut in, "you betrayed the Brotherhood, Achilles, and me."

"Says the man who shot me in the back," Shay retorted, hissing it like he was trying to win an argument.

Sensing his student tensing beside him, Achilles glanced at Liam cautiously. However the Master Assassin was good at[AH5] hiding his emotions, placing a calm, civilized mask. Achilles's skin tingled. He knew his subordinate well enough that this would lead to nowhere good.

The days following Shay's "death," Liam was frightfully silent. When he began to speak again, it was brief, remaining as so for months. He was nearly himself again until Kesegowaase returned from the frontier, reporting that Shay was alive, serving Templars. The Irishman didn't believe it, until he returned from Albany, storming like a thundercloud that it _was_ Shay. Transformed into a Templar, he had said. It only got worse. Soon whispers of a traitor floated through the Homestead. Whenever "Shay" was mentioned, Liam would snap, forbidding use of the name. That quickly grew to whenever anything about the subject was brought up, the Master Assassin would storm out of the room. Then Hope was found dead.

Achilles had never been intimidated, not even when Shay turned on him. But the look Liam wore that night… It scared him. Stiffening, the Mentor watched the man's eyebrows rise in mild alarm, although he was nonchalantly stuffing the Manuscript into the safety of his robes.

"At the Homestead?" the Irishman recalled. "That was La Chevalier." The mask broke, Liam's collected gaze transforming into a feral look. "I don't miss!"

Without any warning, the Master Assassin ripped out his flintlock at an impossible speed. He pointed it at Shay.

The ex-Assassin's eyes widened in the briefest of moments, but that was all Achilles needed. Suddenly the old man did not see a committed Templar, but a young, innocent boy seeking guidance. That energetic apprentice Achilles adored and bestowed his hopes upon. Instead of a Templar, the Mentor saw an Assassin. His heart leaped in panic.

No! He could see his son's death a second time!

"Liam, don't!" Achilles cried.

Body moving on its own, the Mentor snatched the barrel of the gun. What he didn't expect was for Liam to fight back. The Master Assassin struggled against the older Assassin, trying to regain control. Achilles was surprised by his own strength when he shoved Liam away… right into the floating star.

Immediately the Artifact fell from the pedestal, dematerializing as it fell. No one was able to properly register what had happened before a deafening roar filled the air. Achilles couldn't have covered his ears if he wanted to, as the entire cavern violently trembled, like a great fist had pounded on the earth. The Mentor stumbled, only for the world to continue shaking, offering no stability. The roars grew in number, accompanied by thundering _cracks_. Achilles staggered again, only for a giant chunk of ice almost five times his size crash beside him. The Assassin yelled at the event and pain split his ears. The Mentor leaped away from the frozen boulder. Finally instinct kicked in. He had to _move_.

Not wasting another moment, Achilles raced to a flight of stairs beside the pillar, leaping into a full sprint. He didn't know how he ran, with the earth as unsteady and unstable as it was. It didn't even feel like he was obtaining proper footing. The Assassin didn't care, falling into his training as he flew across the ice. What he didn't expect was Kenway to follow him.

Even with all the overwhelming noise, the Mentor was still able to hear the shout behind him (which was horribly muted). He glanced over his shoulder to see Haytham sprinting after him, his speed almost as swift as his. Damn him. The Templar yanked out a flintlock and tried to point it at the Assassin's head, but gaining aim was pointless. That wasn't the problem as suddenly the ceiling started caving in on them.

Achilles danced through the rain of debris, ranging from the size of his fist to unfathomable scales. Haytham danced as well, taking a desperate leap forward when suddenly a shadow of a mighty boulder fell over them. The Grandmaster landed in a roll, quickly straightening to a crouch. Now he had aim. Kenway fired, only for Achilles to leap down a ravine at the final moment. The Assassin swore he could hear the man's profanity drowning out the thundering earthquake.

The strange walls of the Temple were replaced by frozen ice. The earthquake did not lessen anymore. Now webbing of cracks formed their own glyphs on the walls. Achilles didn't pay attention, speeding up his pace even more. Just a little more. _Just a little more_.

Achilles didn't make it.

Without warning a stabbing pain exploded from his leg, the bone no doubt shattered from a violent impact. Achilles let out a scream of agony, almost drowning out the echo of the fired pistol. _Damn Kenway!_

His leg completely going lame and buckling beneath him, the Mentor lost his balance. Due to his momentum, he rolled into an awkward tangle of limbs. Before he could right himself, the ice beneath him fell away, having him tumble down a slippery ravine. Achilles completely succumbed to it, knowing it was better than fighting the fall and breaking a limb. Finally the man plopped onto the snow with a grunt, looking pitiful.

He looked up in time to see Kenway above the ravine, preparing to slide down after him. He never got the chance. With a roar, the ceiling between the two mortal enemies caved in. Haytham skidded to a halt just in time for a rain of ice, rock, and metal to fall, creating an impenetrable barrier in seconds. The Grandmaster was swallowed from sight. Some of the debris slid down the ravine, but didn't hit Achilles.

The Mentor let out a half-frustrated, half-agonized groan as he slowly lifted himself. He could already feel the wetness of blood soaking his leg. But it was just his leg. And Kenway couldn't reach him. Maybe miracles did exist. Achilles tried to rise to his feet, only for his leg to give out several times. No doubt the bone was destroyed, and no doubt the limb was crippled. But he had to keep moving. Even now, the walls of cavern still shook. There was no telling what would happen if he stayed in one place.

With one more yell, Achilles leaped up, forcing his one leg to support his weight and lame one to straighten. He successfully got to his feet, but a blinding pain rippled from his leg. The Assassin growled and white flashed across his vision. He had to get out of here. He had to find the others. He had to find Liam. The Mentor's heart stopped. Liam!

He had completely lost sight of the Master Assassin since the earthquake begun. Horror struck him. He had lost sight of Shay as well…

Achilles took off. The crippling pain disappeared as adrenaline and endorphin kicked in, allowing the Assassin to fly across the ice. No! No! No! He had to find Liam! His student! His heir! He could not lose another!

The earth continued to tremble, filling the air with a dull roar. But it failed to block out the distant _pops_ of a flintlock. There was one. Then another. And another. Achilles spurred himself faster. That could only mean one thing… Sure enough, the Mentor soon heard voices, almost drowned.

"I found Hope's body, Shay!" Liam's roar came, filled with raw fury. "Was it you? _Tell me_!"

" _I'm sorry_!" Shay wailed. Even though the ice, Achilles could hear the pain and sorrow filling it, causing a stab of emotion to strike his heart. No one would have guessed he was the Assassin Hunter. "I had to!"

"You _choose_ to!"

Another distant thunder as Liam fired again, no doubt at Shay. The fact he had missed so much (when he _never_ missed) could mean a number of things, but no doubt the red haze over Liam's vision was a reason. Achilles felt a stab of pain. But not from his leg. His heart. He had to stop them!

But he was too late. The earth gave one final shook, strong enough combined with Achilles's weakness, that it caused the Assassin to slide onto the ground. Desperately panting from exhaustion and pain, the Mentor pathetically crawled across the ice, clawing into the snow. His leg could no longer support him. He squirmed to the edge of a shelf that overlooked more ice. What he saw broke his heart.

Shay and Liam. His prized students. Both were sprawled across the ground, covered in blood and snow, obviously wounded. While Shay writhed meekly in pain and gritted his teeth, Liam was deathly still. Achilles knew why. The back of the Assassin's skull was buried into the ice, blood pouring from his head to create a large pool beneath him. Blood poured from his nostrils and ears. For a moment the Mentor thought he was dead, until Liam let out a low, inhuman groan of coming death. The Irishman tried to shift, only fail and his strange gaze to turn to Shay. He lifted a hand towards him, but it was more like a friendly gesture.

"That was… lucky," he scoffed.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Liam?" Shay groaned. With a gasp of pain, the Templar stiffly rolled over to his side in order to face the Assassin. "I make… my own luck."

"And how did you do that, you bastard? You broke the Assassins. Betrayed everyone you knew…" Liam gave a stuttering breath, trying to use his detest to allow him to continue. But only breathless and strained speech came out. "You sided with… our worst… enemy… And for what?"

Shay lifted himself on his elbows, but his arms shook violently from weakness. "Someone must make amends…"

Immediately the words sounded like an echo of that night. Achilles gritted his teeth. An echo. All because of that damned night. His thoughts were interrupted by Liam's pathetic, humorless laugh.

"Then I hope your New World is a good one…"

Using his last breath to create strength to move, the Master Assassin reached into his robes, pulling out the treasured Manuscript. He lifted his arm as if he meant to hold it out to Shay, but his body failed him. The dead arm fell onto the ice, frozen fingers clutching onto the spine. Achilles saw the life leave the Irishman's eyes. Liam was dead.

The Mentor's ice-cold heart could not melt even if it wanted to. Instead it shattered into countless pieces, having him barely notice Shay awkwardly wiggle toward the Assassin's body. No doubt there were broken bones. However the Templar was able to shift onto his knees, balancing on all fours. He slowly pulled the Manuscript from Liam's grip, stuffing in into his cloak. The man lifted his upper body, almost looking like he was going to stand, but took in his best friend a final time.

Shay fell back to all fours, reaching a hand out towards Liam's head. Watching silently and trying to fight the frozen tears, Achilles almost expected the ex-Assassin to give a prayer of peace, like he had been taught. Instead the Assassin Hunter found the bundle of the Assassin's hood, pulling it over Liam's head to hide his face. Liam was an Assassin to the end… He would enter the next world as such. Shay would remember him like that, not as his childhood friend.

The Templar tried to climb to his feet, only his legs gave out from underneath him. Shay fell back onto the ice, his tanned skin looking pale from the cold. He tried to roll over onto his back to gain leverage, but he only groaned in pain and loss. Achilles started when his former student's eyes locked with his. They stared at each other for several moments, as frozen as the ice around them. The Mentor and the apprentice. Finally with a sigh, Shay's eyelids slid close as unconscious took him once again.

Silence lapsed through the air, a howling gale as the only sound. The earthquake had ceased and the ice had stilled. Achilles allowed a sob to escape, the silence making it sound loud. The Mentor's tears were frozen onto his cheeks.

His Brotherhood was dead. His students were dead. His family was dead. And it was his fault. Everything. He was brash and foolish and greedy. Not to mention naïve. Oh, how _naïve_ he was. Not again. He would not let this happen again. He would no longer pursue something that could not be pursued. Peace. Freedom. Impossible dreams. Achilles would never again take in another apprentice. Yes, he would not go through that pain again. What would he teach them, anyway?

Achilles was still for a long time, until finally he slowly tried to right himself. He had to make it to the ship. He could regroup with the others outside, if they were still alive. But he had to get back to the Homestead. The village was still there… Some Assassins and gangs were still left. If he could convince them to end this fruitless endeavor, maybe they could be safe. He needed to get there.

The crippled Achilles ran away, the wind wailing his sorrow.

* * *

 **And that's the end of it! Thank you for those who favorited/followed this fanfiction; I really appreciate the love and support! As I said in the beginning, I was originally going to use these one-shots in an upcoming fanfiction,** ** _Fallen Eagle,_** **but due to lack of room, I posted them separately. I hope you guys enjoyed and if you like my work, check out my profile.** **Thank you again and hope to see you again!**


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